Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Zambia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Grauzone to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
48th St. Collective,
The Vogues,
Anakelly,
DNA,
Tim Buckley,
James Chance & The Contortions,
E-Dancer,
Smog,
The Leaves,
Black Flag,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Zeros,
Thompson Twins,
the Soft Cell,
the Normal,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bluetip,
Trumans Water,
Electric Prunes,
Index,
David McCallum,
The Monks,
Public Enemy,
Qualms,
Stereo Dub,
The Standells,
Half Japanese,
The Tremeloes,
Man Parrish,
Max Romeo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Laurel Aitken,
Brick,
Chrome,
Tubeway Army,
Fugazi,
Black Moon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sugar Minott,
The Divine Comedy,
Groovy Waters,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Robert Görl,
Joyce Sims,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nico,
T.S.O.L.,
Gichy Dan,
The Victims,
Susan Cadogan,
Babytalk,
Eurythmics,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David Bowie,
Cybotron,
Flash Fearless,
Sam Rivers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.